


Pray Our Stars Align

by iamtraassshh



Category: Ghost Quartet - Malloy
Genre: Feelings Are Confusing, I wrote this and it confuses me, Melancholy, Open Ending, Other, Rose just wants to feel loved, Slight fluff, Soldier just wants to love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:49:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29544732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamtraassshh/pseuds/iamtraassshh
Summary: Rose meets the Soldier at their favorite bar, for the last time.
Relationships: Rose Red/Soldier (Ghost Quartet)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Pray Our Stars Align

The Soldier was sat at the bar, no glass of anything in front of them, and no other patrons around them. They often did this, retreated to a small table in the back corner where no one would see them nor serve them. They simply observed, observed the affection and the love and the comfort exchanged, and reckoned with the idea that they would never feel those things because they couldn’t convince themself that they were real. Maybe once they did, maybe once they could hold a lover close like they were the only thing in the world and whisper “I love you” and mean it. Maybe once, but not now. 

The Soldier registered the sound of the chair across from them being screeching on the floor, but they didn’t look up, they didn’t need to. 

A voice sighed, “Soldier.” 

The Soldier gave no indication that they had heard the women speaking, but Rose knew, “Why do you avoid me?” 

The desperation in Rose’s voice was the thing that finally made the Soldier raise their head, involuntarily, “I am a Soldier.” They answered with the distinct feeling or expression in their voice that Rose had grown far too used to. The phrase they spoke was also something Rose had grown too used to, it seemed to be their answer for every plea she had for a scrap of insight to the Soldier. 

“I know.” Rose said, frustration and pity evident in her voice, “But that doesn’t answer my question.” Rose reached her hand across the table and took hold of the Soldier’s. Their eyes shifted to meet hers, and they were so full of sadness, and so full of longing, that Rose almost began to weep, but was stopped by herself and her darker frustrations. The Soldier never spoke much, but their eyes were always full of questions. Tonight there was no question, just a sort of pained acceptance, of what Rose wasn’t sure. 

The Soldier spoke again in a steady voice, just slightly above a whisper, “I am a soldier, and I-” 

Rose cut them off, growing weary, “And I don’t believe in anything? Soldier I’ve heard-” 

“And I am broken.” The Soldier kept their eyes locked on Rose, studying her, observing. 

Rose’s outward anger disappeared from her face, but her deeper anger and resentment for the Soldier still festered inside. She loved the Soldier, she truly did. And they were kind, and they listened. They cared about her, and they weren’t like the Astronomer. But Rose wasn’t sure how long she could keep it up and be true to herself while doing so. For how was she to love someone who couldn’t believe in the concept? She believed she could help the Soldier, believed she could save them, but they would always refuse, and they would sit there, gripping her hand, head on her shoulder, appearing content but battling with themself, and Rose was expected to do nothing. 

“Well we can- we can put you back together?” Rose winced at her words and wished she had said something more clever. 

The Soldier laughed and tilted their head back, eyes crinkling as they smiled. Their laugh was unique, cracked and dry as if they had forgotten how. They gazed back at Rose and sighed fondly, “Oh Rose...my little hero.” They smiled wistfully. 

Rose pulled her hand away and knitted her brow, slightly offended at the tone Soldier was taking, “We can.” She said firmly. 

The Soldier leaned back in their chair, “Of course we can.” There was humor in their voice, which was quite unsettling for Rose as the Soldier had never expressed anything like this. Now that she thought about it, the Soldier’s aura overall that night had been slightly offputting even before they left for the bar. 

Rose tilted her head and looked at them confused, there were few people who could render her speechless, and apparently, the Soldier was one of them. 

The Soldier stood and held out a hand to Rose, “Dance with me?” They asked and added quietly, much too soft for Rose to hear, “One last time…” 

Rose took their hand cautiously and allowed herself to be led to the middle of the bar, it wasn’t really a dancefloor, but more like an area that tables had been shoved away from for some event and no one had bothered to put them back. 

The Soldier wrapped an arm around Rose’s waist and held onto her hand with the other one, they leaned forward and rested their head on Rose’s shoulder, which was slightly awkward given that the Soldier was by far the taller of the pair. They swayed slowly and gently, not paying attention to the music or the dance, just holding each other close. 

The bar always boasted live music but it was really nothing to write home about, a drunk cellist and an even drunker pianist who were supposed to be the “house band” but looked like they had never even seen each other before the night and each played their own tune, sometimes stopping entirely for long periods of time for what seemed to be no reason. But it was enough for Rose and the Soldier. 

The music was quiet and over it, Rose started to hear a sniffling and began to feel the Soldier shaking against her

“Soldier?” She brought her hand up to tangle it in the back of the Soldier’s close-cropped hair. She honestly didn’t know what to do, the night had been odd, emotions were running high and haywire, and now the Soldier was crying? They had never cried before. Or at least, never in front of Rose. 

The Soldier lifted their head from Rose’s shoulder and stopped swaying, pulling back to gaze into Rose’s eyes. They always loved her eyes, they reminded the Soldier of what home might feel like. The Soldier sagged their shoulders, letting the tension slide out, but held their gaze on Rose’s eyes. They were still crying, but no longer shaking, it was a strange thing to see the Soldier cry. Because although there were tears trickling constantly down their face, leaving tracks only to be trod over seconds later, the Soldier still somehow appeared stone-faced. 

Rose shied under their gaze. For all the staring and wondering she did, she did not appreciate being stared at or wondered about. Something about it made her feel anxious as if the wonder-er might find something they shouldn’t. So Rose stared right back. She finally said, “What?” The word pronounced with just the slightest edge of steel. 

The Soldier didn’t say anything but moved their hand to Rose’s cheek, softly pulling their fingers down the length of her face before resting their index and middle finger on her lips. 

“Oh Rose...I wish I could love you.” 

The Soldier then promptly turned their back to Rose and made their way over to the coat rack near the door. 

Rose followed, her cheek and lips still tingling from the Soldier’s touch. She had never noticed how cold their hands were before. “Soldier!” She called and hurried her step as she saw the Soldier yank on their coat and prepare to reach for the door. Her head was a blizzard of emotions. Part of her was still angry at the Soldier for the way they seemed to toy with her and not even know it, a part of her that existed ever since they met felt pity for the Soldier, and another part was full of longing to feel their touch again. At the forefront of all this, however, was the panic at the thought that the Soldier might leave, right now, for good. 

The Soldier turned at her cry and offered her one last half-smile, “Farewell, hero.” They slammed the door shut, leaving Rose standing frozen in the middle of the bar. 

Rose never saw the Soldier after that, at least, not in person. In actuality, she saw the Soldier in every cold cup of tea left on her bedside table, she saw them in every drop of rain that fell from the sky, she saw them in every warm fraying blanket, and sometimes, on nights where she thought there could possibly be more alcohol in her body than blood, she saw them in her reflection.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make my day, just saying :D


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